


Better Together

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [27]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, mild body horror in a dream sequence, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: 9 ALW – Ever since the fall of the Aparoids, Fox has been plagued with nightmares and stress.  In a world where nothing seems to ever settle down, what can he lean on when victories feel hollow and so many lives have been ruined?





	1. Where Forever Ends

**Author's Note:**

> -shows up outta no where and dabs with Starbucks in hand- Hey, friends, I'm back from my hiatus, let's write about Star Foxes.
> 
> I wanted to give a quick little apology for poofing like that without a trace for the last month or so. Life kinda kicked me down for a bit but we're on the steady upward climb now, so I hope to get back into writing more often soon. 
> 
> This piece was started around the same time as "I Fall In Love With You More and More Every Day" as a sort of sequel, but then I kind of let it sit and rust in my files for a bit before I really found inspiration.

_Metallic corridors stretched as far as his eyes could see. They were carved in the same dimensions—innumerable identical siblings that boxed him in. He could not remember how he came to be within their walls, but he knew that, somehow, they had existed for as long as he could remember. They never bowed in to trap him, to end his path. They only guided him—as though they were veins and he was the blood that circulated within. For all he knew, he was moving in a large circle and they were just watching him pass by in a cycle that could never be broken. _

_In the darkness ahead that seemed always just out of his grasp, there was a faint pulse of deep violet. It churned like a thunderstorm, uninviting but exhilarating. Something lay on the other side. Something his heart yearned for, burning like suns. He could not have guessed what it was but Fox McCloud knew he needed it. _

_Yet he could never reach it. No matter how hard he threw forward his Arwing’s thrusters. It was an enigma he could never solve but he told himself that he had to keep trying. There was no logic to it all. It was a chase. It was a mystery. His heart screamed for an answer. It screamed for closure._

_Closure he never felt he really had._

_The corridor was never-ending—a metaphor for his problems. The storm crackled ahead but it eluded him, coyly drifting ever further away yet never out of sight. He willed his ship to fly faster, to cut through the gloom and to see what lay in the shrouded future. But his engines failed him and the Arwing slowed to a snail’s pace. Angrily, Fox slammed his fists into the dashboard. _

_“No!” He yelled, the taste of defeat bitter and cruel. He pressed his Arwing into a boost but it was futile. The storm fell away into the horizon, barely in sight but ever tormenting him. _

_He chased it. Hours passed. Days. Years. Eons. They flew by arbitrarily. The corridor remained. The storm persisted. He carried on, achieving nothing. Tears of frustration glistened his vivid eyes as he choked back a sob. When would it end? The silence was deafening. _

_The metal of the hallway began to shudder, as if it were to be pressed down upon by an unsurmountable weight. Fox watched it as it began to fall to pieces. Shards of it scattered into the abyss. Parts of it fell away, clawed out by skeletal hands that reached from the swirling black and violet around him. Something rang in his head—a familiar voice with rage that could have shattered reality itself. _

_“YOU WILL DIE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!”_

_His muscle memory kicked in but his engines had gone out. He felt himself plummet, dragged down by gravity—gravity, somehow, in this void where nothing made sense anymore. Everything he did was just to stave off another apocalypse. Everything he strived for… would it all be erased someday? One day, would there be a fight that he could not win?_

_His Arwing scrapped the bottom of the corridor. Sparks flew. His flight was ended and all he had left to do was to stare up through the glass of his cockpit as Andross’s skull was pulled from over the wall of the breaking corridor. His eye sockets were bloodied, filled with eyes stitching themselves back into existence. They fixated upon him, his fanged smile dripping with silver ooze. The ooze fell from his jaw, solidifying into metal that began to spread over his spectral visage. Pink veins etched themselves into the armored plating, his eyes turning neon and bloodshot. _

_“ALL FOR US. ALL THINGS IN THE UNIVERSE WILL BE OURS.” _

_Twisted metallic spires jutted from his spine. He crawled unnaturally from the void, his claws becoming curved, lethal sickles. Legs began to sprout from his forming cyborg body, the sound of bone and metal fusing with a sizzle making the vulpine want to vomit. Flesh formed to reinforce where the ape and the sinister, metallic virus—the aparoid—met. A second head began to form—emotionless, a Krazoan mask that protruded from a second spine that stood looming over Andross’s decrepit face. The mask’s eyes glowed distorted red—a corruption of what it ought to have been. _

_Fox sat, paralyzed in his cockpit. To leave his Arwing was to die in the void. To stay was to perish. What choice did he have? He reached for his blaster, fangs bared in a silent scream. As the aparoid-Andross hybrid crawled down, its mouth opened. Fangs that would see his flesh torn asunder sought to devour the cockpit whole. Fox aimed the barrel of his gun to the ape’s opened maw but his fingers disobeyed him. Joints unmoving, he watched death come for him, the ape’s jaws wrapping down around the broken, useless Arwing. _

* * *

Fox’s eyes snapped open. He tried to breathe, tried to _listen_ for it and heard nothing. The world had gone silent. Deathly quiet as the emptiness of space. The vulpine’s tipped ears strained to listen but he could sense nothing. His eyes flitted about—taking in what little details he could in the darkness of their hotel room. Sunshine crept in through the cracks between the hefty fabric. It was morning in Corneria City. But everything felt cold. Cold and spinning. The vulpine blinked repeatedly, trying to snap himself into reality but he could not. He merely felt the nothing around him. 

Eyelids drooped to a close for a split second—enough time for his subconscious to conjure up the image of the aparoidefied Andross again. His body gave a small jolt and he forced his lids open, glaring resilient holes through the popcorn ceiling. Letting a softness settle over his vision, Fox let his inner dialogue logic out his fears. At first, he felt like he was beating them back with a plastic straw but as his reasoning gained momentum, he felt his confidence build. 

_Why am I so scared? I did it. I beat them both. I have the power to do that. I shouldn’t be afraid. If they kept coming back, I’d keep knockin’ them back down. It’s fine… it’s fine…_

He blinked and still could see Andross’s fangs, flashing in a split-second moment with the ghost of his own screams echoing in his ears. Nails digging into the sterile white of the bed’s sheets, the vulpine tried his best to banish the nightmarish memory. His torso shuddered with ragged breath—an erratic pattern of inhales and exhales that cut through the silence. Ears pinned back, he grabbed at his chest. He could feel his own heart racing. He could hear his breathing. The curse was broken and he took a moment to revel in the return of his senses. Slowly, he slid back, resting against the headboard. It moaned a soft, high-pitched note in protest but he did not care.

“Fox?” a voice murmured in the soft darkness of the mid-morning. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, glancing down at where Krystal was snuggled next to him. “I’m all right.”

“You don’t sound all right,” the sleepy vixen sat upright. Her loose t-shirt slid off to the side of her left shoulder. “Was it a nightmare again?”

_It was a jumbled reality. But I guess sometimes things that happen in reality are nightmares._

“Yeah but… I’ll be okay,” Fox replied. His shaky hand found her hair, fingers combing through it. There were a few tangles but he did his best to tenderly brush through them. “Just go back to sleep.”

“It’s morning,” the cerulean vixen remarked with a gander towards the curtains. “Mm. Light outside. We ought to have been out of bed hours ago.”

“They won’t miss us,” Fox said quietly. “Not for a few hours.”

“You say that but it’s not true,” Krystal said back with a slight hint of sass in her tone. “Falco will have something smart to say.”

“He always does,” Fox felt his mouth twitch upward into a smile. He was beginning to calm down—the vixen had that effect on him. Ever since their first mission together, their synergy had been impeccable. He hoped that was a trend that would never fizzle out.

His phone buzzed, its screen bursting to life with white light and a text message notification. Squinting, Fox reached out and grabbed it, pulling it close to his adjusting eyes to read whatever message he had gotten. It was from Beltino Toad. Ears erect, the vulpine opened the text message with a careful swipe of his finger. It read:

_“General Pepper’s results are coming back fine. They suspect a few more days in the hospital and then he should be good to move from ICU to a more comfortable suite. He will have to do some physical therapy as he suffered some spine damage in the crash. However, the doctors seem optimistic!”_

Relief drowned him for a moment. His sigh heaved air from every bit of his chest, his stomach deflating. He clutched his phone tightly for a few moments. Nails tapping against its case, he rested the phone to his chest. It was cold to the touch but he did not mind. 

“What is it?” Krystal asked.

“General Pepper’s doing good,” Fox replied. “And thank goodness for that. After the invasion…”

His words faltered. Memories passed by his mind’s eye in a flash, but their weight still felt as real as though he had experienced them all again. His other hand gripped the sheets so hard he felt his knuckles ache, pleading for him to stop. He glanced down at his fingers, gradually prying them apart with a hefty amount of mental willpower. Tension ate at his shoulders. He hated the way how his body never shut up after a battle. Days after fighting the Aparoid Queen and he still felt like he was thick in the moment. His hand moved from the sheets to his chest, feeling the way his heart throbbed—chained back like a beast but ever yearning for the _fight._

“… I just never thought I’d have to do that. _Fight_ him,” Fox finished weakly.

“What you did was difficult. Not everyone can take up arms against someone they care about,” Krystal said. He felt the warmth of her palm against his forearm. It radiated like the sun, breathing life slowly into his body. “Ultimately… you saved him. Don’t forget that.”

“His back was injured when his ship went down,” Fox began, feeling guilt rise with a lump in his throat.

“And what would have happened if you _hadn’t_ fought him?” Krystal asked. “Fox. He wanted this. Stop trying to second-guess yourself. You did what was right and no one, not even General Pepper, could fault you for the repercussions.” She hesitated for a moment, teal eyes glazing in thought. “If he’s better, I guess that means Peppy can come with us when we leave. And you don’t have to worry about…”

_Oh. Right. The rumor._

Long ago, the Cornerians had thrown out ideas about monarchy but Corneria’s high society of millionaires and military heroes felt equally misguided and convoluted. Fox had escaped it all when it had been presented to him—the fancy parties, the politics, the doe-eyed women that no doubt wanted to cling to the arm of the Hero of the Lylat System. He was glad he had never accepted that life. It seemed stifling.

But now, the door was opening again and this time, he was not so sure that saying no was easy. Within the military, all of the top personnel had be killed in the Aparoid Invasion. It was a severe blow to their nation’s security. A few ruthless survivors circled Pepper’s feeble body with bated breath—hoping that their name would be called in to become the next general should the old war hound give up the ghost. It came as a shock when General Pepper had given the word to name mercenary Peppy Hare as his replacement—an order uttered just moments before fading into a coma that had lasted a few days. Fox was certain the remaining military higher ups were _livid_ but Peppy seemed to not pay them any attention. 

Peppy had everything under control and Fox was content to let him have it. He would have not thought too hard about what would happen to Corneria’s future if the dreaded rumor had not started circulating the capital city—rumors regarding General Pepper’s will, which was a document no one could seemingly produce, yet somehow also a document containing the desire for “Fox McCloud to become the next General”. There was obviously a lot of buzz about the validity of the rumor in the media, as well as among what was left from the higher ups. Could the General name a true successor to his title? Was that even allowed? 

No one seemed to know. All anyone seemed to know was that the city was still burning in some places and the dead seemed too many to bury. 

The vixen’s hands found his again, guiding him from his frantic thoughts. Her sparkling turquoise eyes caught his and he exhaled out more tension that seemed to be manifesting faster than he could expel it. 

“Even if it is true, you could always say no,” Krystal reminded him but it sounded so simple coming from her. Krystal who knew everything. Krystal who could dispel rumors with a sharp glare and the snap of her dainty fingers. Krystal who was everything to him. Everything he knew. Everything he didn’t know. 

“And create a power vacuum? With all those power-hungry military officers just waitin’ to pounce on the opportunity?” Fox asked tiredly.

“It doesn’t have to be your concern,” Krystal said.

“Everything _is_ my concern!” Fox felt his voice rise until it was just shy of a shout. The vixen recoiled, bringing her hands away from him. Fox felt one of his tipped ears flit back ashamedly. “Ah… sorry. It’s just… Stressful.”

“I know,” Krystal replied but her tone was thick with apprehension. “But you can’t worry about it.”

_But Krystal, it’s in my nature to worry just like it’s in my nature to breathe._

“How are you feeling?” the vixen continued in concern—eyes moving up and down him in a quick scan.

“Tired? I don’t know… I just have this awful feeling all over my body,” Fox said bitterly. “It’s like I can feel things… but at the same time? I can’t.” He raised a hand, touching each finger to his thumb in sequence. 

“Are you that nervous about the General thing?” Krystal asked with raised brows.

“I’m not even sure anymore,” Fox retorted, rising out of the bed. Draped over a plain wooden chair were some clothes he had set out from the night before —a dark maroon shirt, jeans, and his cream-colored flight jacket. He began to gather them together into his arms, ignoring the way the vixen’s eyes followed him.

The hotel bathroom was filled with white tile—immaculately scrubbed by tired hands that probably knew every groove in the grout. Its cold touch chilled the soles of his feet as he walked in, setting his clothes on the counter near the sink. He flipped the knob on the shower, until it was just a notch under the hottest it could be. As the steam began to rise, he pulled off his boxers and climbed in.

He leaned his head back to let the water rush over his scalp. Its warmth comforted him, soaking through his russet fur. He plopped shampoo into his palm and began to scrub himself, savoring the peace of silence and the gentle drumming of droplets from the showerhead. Fox sighed. The curtains blotted out the world—taking his troubles with it for a blissful moment. Sometimes, being alone was what he needed—a break from keeping up societal norms and lofty expectations, a moment where he could just _breathe. _ His eyes fluttered shut and he let the shower cover his face, cherishing the warm flow. It felt nice. It felt like-----

\---_Metal screeching as it gave way to strong steel and bone, he could feel the front of the cockpit cave in. The steering jutted up, into his sternum. Inside the ghastly ape’s mouth was an abyss that reeked of sulphur and decay. Blood and death. He felt the air tear from his lungs through his agape mouth—a silent scream as the light outside was blotted out by the darkness of the beast’s maw. Jaws shut like a guillotine._

Fox’s eyes flashed open. It took him a moment to realize his jaw was taut, that his clawed fingers had found a curve in the shower curtains and were clinging to it. The next breath that came out was a dissatisfied hiss. Quickly, he scrubbed himself over again, fingers running over the alight nerves in his body. His heart rampaged a fervent allegro pace. A few minutes of scrubbing later and he turned off the shower, climbing back out. Fox grabbed the towel hanging over the toilet, using it to ruffle through his drenched fur.

_It’s not real. It’s just a nightmare… and it’s over now. It’s over. All we can do is move forward._

He glanced at himself in the fogged up mirror, taking grim note of the tiredness under his eyes. Pensive, he dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, then stepped out from the bathroom. A gander towards the bed and one of his tipped ears keenly caught the end of Krystal’s voice adrift from the balcony beyond the bedside window.

“… this will mean so much to him. Thank you for understanding… Mhm. I’ll see you later. Goodbye.”

Not a second later, the sliding door leading outside began to open, revealing a thoughtful Krystal as she stepped in. Her ears swiveled in his direction, turquoise eyes lighting up. The acute angle of her smile worried him. 

“What is it?” Fox asked.

“That was Peppy,” Krystal answered.

“Any updates?” Fox asked.

“No, not about General Pepper. But he did say… to meet him at the Daniel Whippet Hangar in an hour. Think you’ll be ready by then?” Krystal asked with an inquisitive head tilt.

“Yeah, should be,” Fox shrugged. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Mmm no, he didn’t,” Krystal shook her head. “Are you done with the shower? I still need one.”

“Yeah, go on,” Fox replied, plopping down on the bed and checking his text messages. Nothing. He sighed and fell back onto the bed. His damp fur clung awkwardly to his body, clumped together in weird patches. Fox gave a thought to fix it but his body already ached from yesterday’s toiling in the sun. He sighed, closing his eyes and feeling his exhaustion nip at his consciousness.

Fox did not feel himself slip into slumber—he closed his eyes and then opened them again when he felt something stroke his cheek. It took a moment for his vision to adjust but when it did, he stared up into Krystal’s face. She sat next to him, azure fringe still damp but combed into place. She was dressed to depart, having shed her flight suit in favor of a violet crop top and a sleeveless white cardigan. Bangles on her wrists clinked together as her fingers worked through small tangles of his fur. 

“I leave for just a few moments…” Krystal remarked softly.

“I…” Fox began, trying to come up with an excuse. Her raised brows banished his train of thought and he fell back quiet, ears pulling back. “Guess I’m just really tired.”

“Mhm,” Krystal said, unable to stop smiling. She bent down, kissing his forehead. “I can tell.”

“What time is it?” he asked, turning his head to look towards the digital clock on the bedside table. It read 9:30am. “How long was I…?”

“Thirty minutes,” Krystal cut him off. “We’ve still got some time. You ah… may want to think about getting dressed.”

“Hm?” Fox asked her then realized that not only had he not gotten changed into his clothes for the day but also that his towel was suddenly missing. He bolted upright, missing Krystal’s forehead by a fraction of an inch. She sat back with a laugh as he scrambled, pulling the towel from his floor and up to his waist. 

“I didn’t—um, I’m sorry about--” Fox fumbled.

The vixen gave a laugh, covering her muzzle with a dainty hand. Her eyes twinkled with deviousness. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to “put the moves on me”. Ah… isn’t that how you Cornerians say it?”

“Yes,” Fox replied. “And no, I wasn’t… I mean… it’s not that I don’t want… ughhhh,” he buried his snout into a hand. Her giggles grew louder and he mumbled out, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Krystal teased gently, reaching out to his hand and pulling it down from his face. “Come on, let’s get you up and dressed. We’re wasting daylight.”

“Yeah, I guess we wouldn’t want Peppy gettin’ any ideas anyways,” Fox added with a laugh. 

One of the vixen’s ears went to the side.

“Oh! Um, yes, we wouldn’t want that at all,” Krystal nodded.

Careful to keep his towel around his waist, Fox slipped off the bed and padded towards the bathroom. It still smelled of Krystal’s perfume and soaps—strong with the aroma of lavender and roses. Fox drank in the air perhaps a little more so than normal, cherishing how the smell eased him. Regardless, he was quick to change into his clothes, smoothing out his light-toned hair so it did not stick out messily. Once he was satisfied, he stepped out of the bathroom and tossed a look over at where Krystal was fastening the straps of her sandals. He raised an eyebrow.

“You really want to work in those?” Fox asked as he sat down to put on his boots. 

“It’ll be fine,” the vixen replied nonchalantly.

When he finished putting on his boots, they began towards the door. Krystal grabbed a hold of the knob, opening the door to reveal the brimming mid-morning sunlight. It flashed in Fox’s eyes, blinding him. His eyelids shut for a moment, grimacing in pain. In the darkness of his mind’s eye, he saw the outline of Andross’s skull—a faint shape that grew more and more clear the longer he dwelled in his fearful thoughts. Eyes snapping open, he seized the side of the door, pulling himself from the shaded apartment and into the light.

“Fox…?” Krystal asked. He heard her softly shut the door. Its lock clicked loudly. “Are you all right?”

_Just tired, that’s all. _

“I’ll be fine,” Fox replied with the shake of his head. His fingers twitched, feeling his fear subduing until it was a soft memory in the back of his mind, plaguing every thought. He sighed shakily, trying to dodge her concerned look. “Let’s go meet with Peppy.”


	2. An Empty Glass

Salt from the churning ocean tickled his nostrils, the gentle roar of the undulating tide cultivating the serenity of the moment. Her azure bangs tossed in waves of their own in the sea-chilled breeze. Hands clasped behind her back, she walked with a spirited sway. He smiled as she walked along the curb, feet careful to dance around the cracks in the pavement. Every move she made was fluid as a river with the precision of an arrow nocked and loosed by the hand of an expert marksman. Even through the numbness he felt after his nightmare, he felt himself smile. She glanced back at him briefly-- a quick peek from the corner of her eye. In the moments before a blink, he could have sworn she was smiling too. 

They continued along for a few more blocks-- Krystal playing her balance game and Fox content enough with the fresh air. Each time he thought his nerves had fully settled, he chanced a look to his right-- to the mounds of debris from fighting the aparoids. Though most of Corneria City’s pristine structures remained standing, some of the smaller buildings had suffered massive damage. It made his heart ache when he looked at the charred remains of an office building but somehow even the hurt was not enough to tear his gaze away. 

_Even though we won, it doesn’t feel much like a victory when you look at this._

As if sensing his growing distress, the vixen slowed down, glancing over her shoulder at him. He forced his gaze to meet hers, guilt spreading quickly from his heart even to his fingers, giving them a small tremble. Uncertainly, he thumbed through his cream-colored fringe. She said nothing then kept moving-- slightly faster this time, or perhaps it was his imagination?

“It’s a long walk to the hanger,” he pointed out. Despite the sun’s radiance bathing their fur and clothes, there was a wintery chill in the air. He shoved one hand into his pocket, keeping the other out in case she were to fall. It took a lot to not try to hold her hand to steady her. He knew she could do it on her own but part of him screamed to protect her, even from the smallest things like a twisted ankle or a skinned knee. 

“It feels nice outside,” Krystal replied. “And besides, we’re almost there.”

“What did Peppy say he wanted for us to do?” Fox asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” Krystal teased with the flick of her tail.

“Why?” Fox asked, left ear pulling to the side.

“What kind of question is that?” Krystal asked, stopping and turning to face him. “You don’t… like surprises?”

“I guess it depends on what kind,” Fox replied, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Well, I hope you like this one. After these past few days…” Her voice broke, ebbing away on the cold gale. “... I think we could all use some time to relax.”

_Hard to say that when there’s still bodies buried under buildings and homes still destroyed._

“It doesn’t matter,” Krystal’s voice broke his thoughts. For words that should have sounded so cold, they did not. They sounded distant-- they sounded soft. They broke the tension in his shoulders, expelling a breath he did not even know he was holding from his lungs. Her turquoise eyes glittered like a cluster of gems in the sun. 

“How can you say that…?” Fox asked, trying to find it in himself to get upset. He couldn’t. He was too tired. 

Her gaze pierced through him like splinters of glass, eviscerating what little energy he had left. The numbness within him seemed to hum, spreading until it ate at the corners of his vision. He wanted to bend over, to hold his knees and breathe for a moment-- why did it feel like the breath had been sapped from his lungs? A heavy hand lifted, rubbing at the fur below his eyes. His fingers massaged the area until the dancing lights in his vision faded and his lungs remembered how to do their jobs. Her face remained unwavering all the while-- scrutinizing him as though he were a captured specimen under a microscope. Fox hated when she did that-- when she saw through him, saw him for his flaws. It made him feel naked. 

“Come with me.”

When she spoke, it invoked his feet to move-- move with strength he did not know he had. Enchanted, he followed her onto the curb and into the carefully trimmed grass of a decimated cafe. Their hands found each other-- hers lightly gripping onto his, as if her touch was made of clouds. His seizing hers with that drive to _protect_, as if she were a flower and the rest of the world a merciless maelstrom. His boots found the start of the decline from the sidewalk to the beach. The sand parted in the wake of his descent-- half steps, half miniature slides down the side of the hill until it leveled out. Where the tide often came in, the sand had flattened, gripped together tightly by moisture. He might have thought the scene tranquil had the beach not been marred by a fallen Cornerian spacefighter, its wings jutting uncannily from the hard sand. The paint was starting to fade where the water lapped around it. Fox felt his stomach churn in tandem with the waves.

Her free hand reached out for his face, guiding it from the fallen plane towards her face. The turquoise of her eyes stood out like brimming gemstones against the oceanic scenery of their excursion. She walked until her feet hit the damp sand, leaving prints so detailed that he could make out the grooves of the bottoms of sandal’s soles. Her azure hair rippled in the wind like interrupted waters. 

Krystal stopped where the water met the earth in fickle, rhythmic laps. The shallows came halfway up her feet but she gracefully splashed through it as though it did not bother her. Fox realized he had stopped to admire her silhouette against the sunny sky. She cast a glance over her shoulder at him and motioned with her head to follow. He tentatively let the toes of his boots meet the water’s edge. Krystal bent down at the knees, running her fingers through the clear shallows. Fox raised a brow. The vixen’s mouth flickered into a small smile for a moment. She cupped her hands together, rising to her full height to show Fox the water trapped in her palms.

“Hold your hands out,” she said and he obeyed apprehensively, cupping his own hands together.

She poured some of the water into his hands, a few wayward droplets splashing out onto the sand. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Fox asked her with an ear flitted off to the side.

“When I was training as an acolyte on Cerinia, there was something my mentor told me one day. It was the fifth night we had been stationed to protect a high priestess that was being targeted for assassination. We had scarcely slept at all, knowing that if we were to fail, then the consequences would have been grave. A power vacuum would have sent the higher ups squabbling, letting chaos reign while our enemies closed in,” Krystal explained. Fox could feel the water seeping though his fingers, despite his best efforts to prevent it. The vixen’s eyes moved from the water in his hand to his concentrated expression.

“My mentor—” Krystal began.

“Randorn?” Fox asked.

The azure vixen faltered for a moment.

“Yes, Randorn. On the fifth night, I was nearly asleep on my feet. Struggling to stay awake, struggling to _walk_ even. I used the wall to support myself as I wandered down the palace corridor on patrol. New guards had come in to swap in for our positions but I didn’t want to relinquish my post. I suppose you could say I… I didn’t trust that anyone else could do it. I only trusted _myself_,” Krystal continued. “I was so feeble… Randorn pulled me aside and he told me that I needed rest, that the others could handle it. I refused. He was upset at me. He said that if I had any chance at defending her, that I could prove it by hitting him with a spell. He told me to launch a Fire Blast at him.”

“And did you?” Fox asked, brows raised. The water was almost gone entirely from his hands.

“I tried,” Krystal admitted sheepishly. “But even with my staff at full power, I could not summon so much as a single spark of fire. Randorn, he had always been one to prove a point. He knocked me down with ease. And as I lay smarting on my rump, he demanded that I follow him to the gardens. I hobbled my way after him and he showed me to a pool of water that made up the garden’s center. He took water into his hands and he told me to hold mine out.”

“He poured the water in. Like I did to you,” Krystal said. “He had me hold the water for some time. Then he told me to pour the water back. So, Fox… Pour the water back.”

She held out her hands and Fox tilted his hands to gently return the last few droplets back into her hands. When they splashed back into her empty palms, his ears went back. Her knowing smile ignited tiny pinpricks of nerves down his neck. Flustered, he lowered his hands.

“You can’t pour from an empty glass,” the vixen said quietly.

“What does that even mean?” Fox asked tiredly.

Her eyes fell upon him with such intensity that he could feel the weight of what they had seen. 

“If you’re exhausted, you can’t give anything out. You can’t even help yourself. So what makes you think you can help anyone else like this?” Krystal asked softly.

_ I know that it’s impossible to keep this up forever. But I feel like there’s no other way. General Pepper is still in ICU and no one knows when he’s going to be fit to run Corneria again. Peppy’s got his hands full with everything. Who’s going to lead the reconstruction effort if it isn’t the Hero of Lylat?_

“It’s not a matter of can or _can’t_,” Fox replied. His hands covered hers, closing her fingers so that they rested against the warmth of her own palm. “It’s that I _have_ to.”

Krystal’s ears went back. He could feel the defeat sulk her shoulders. A gentle _whoosh_ of water caressed their feet as the waves came in, as predictable as a pendulum’s swing. Her other hand sat atop his. The way her irises gleamed, he could see that her thoughts were as frantic as the ocean under the oppression of a storm. Fox tried to temper it with a kiss to her forehead, but something still seemed distant about her expression. Finally, she pulled away from him, a bitter smile on her face.

“Well, if you’re so certain,” the vixen said wistfully. “Let’s not keep Peppy waiting.”

They wandered back up the sandy slope, struggling against the grains until their feet hit pavement again. Krystal said nothing as they immersed themselves in the rubble. A bus drove by them, filled to the brim with volunteers with blank-face stares. He caught her watching him as the bus disappeared around the corner. A growing sense of unease within him made her gaze jerk away and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Briefly, he wondered if his parent’s mausoleum still stood, or if it had been casualty in the invasion. The more he thought on it, the more he was not sure he could tolerate the truth. Not at the moment, at least. 

As they walked, he felt Krystal draw closer—wordlessly. She had forsaken trailing along the curb in order to be next to him. He was not entirely sure when she had hooked her arm around his elbow, but soon enough, he became aware of it. Fox glanced at her and she looked dead ahead with that expressionless look on her face. He snuggled a little closer to her as they strolled, marveling at how warm she could radiate for having the mien of an iceberg at times.

The Grand Cornerian Airport came into sight a few minutes later. Its tediously constructed dome had been left unscathed despite the rampant debris around its premises. The airport had been renovated just a few years ago, its structure made with a new, contemporary look in mind. Its structure was a geometrical conglomeration, with windows that took up significant portions of the walls. A silvery statue of twin Cornerian fighters stood in front of the terminal doors. Fox recognized the model as the kind that Bill had flown during the Lylat Wars. The Corneria flag waved from nearby, where it was hoisted high upon its pole. 

The crosswalk sign next to it had been knocked over, so they crossed when it was safe. A few yards passed underfoot and soon the duo stood in front of the sliding glass doors leading into the airport. When the doors parted, a gush of air conditioning surged from within, blowing back their fur. Fox smiled, welcoming it. They stepped inside. 

Usually, the airport would have been bustling with activity and announcements from the intercom about departures and arrivals. Today, it was eerily silent. The quiet seemed to radiate, echoing from the white tile floor to the high ceilings overhead. Fox caught a glimpse of a janitor sweeping. No one was working the front desks.

“Where’s Peppy?” Fox asked.

Wordless, Krystal sauntered on by the empty kiosk, towards the security check, where a long-haired grey and white dog sat. Her excess head fringe had been pulled back by a blue bow. She was an older dog, with a pleasant enough smile. She sat in a nice little chair with a cup of coffee next to her on a podium. 

“Good morning, dears,” she said. “Got IDs?”

“Yes,” Krystal said, sliding her pilot’s license for the security agent to see.

“Krystal Syrius,” the dog repeated. “Any weapons to declare?”

“A pseudo-sentient combat malikendo staff forged from the fires of Mount _Xawh Vaho_ and lined with magic gems found only in the northern hemisphere of Cerinia,” Krystal explained firmly.

“Is that legal?” the security agent began, pulling out a manual.

“We’re here on order of Acting General Peppy Hare,” Fox cut in. “We’re members of the Star Fox team.”

“Oh!” the security agent shoved aside her manual and nodded. “I thought I recognized you both. Step through, dear.”

As Krystal stepped through, Fox flashed his pilot’s license just for good measure. The agent smiled and nodded before letting him through the scanner. There was a flash of green light as he passed through and a small beep to verify that he was cleared to go. He jogged over towards Krystal, emerald gaze shifting about. The corridor around them was empty. 

“Huh,” Fox observed. 

“Let’s go,” Krystal said, taking his hand. 

Empty businesses within the airport gave him a sense that they were trespassing, but Krystal’s confidence made him think that maybe _perhaps_ this was okay. He let her take the lead, holding loosely onto her hand as they made their way down the hall and towards the tram station. It was two minutes before the next tram arrived and in those two minutes, Fox could feel his heart flutter quicker and quicker. What were they doing here? Why did Peppy absolutely need to see them? He glanced back the way they came, feeling his stomach churn and growl. Maybe they should have eaten before they had left…

“Fox,” Krystal spoke up and the haze of distraction around his thoughts cleared up. “Do you think that Corneria City will ever be the same after this?”

“No,” Fox replied. “Nothing’s ever breached the barriers. Not since the Lylat Wars, at least.”

“Hm,” Krystal nodded.

A beep heralded the arrival of the tram. Like with most trams across Corneria City, it was unmanned, operated instead by an A.I. unit. Its sleek, lengthy body held no other passengers – and Fox marveled how lonely it felt to be the only ones wandering the airport. Once the tram slid into view and came to a stop, the duo boarded. They stood next to each other, grabbing a hold of the vertical railing to keep themselves steady. That did not stop Fox from bumping into Krystal as soon as the tram took off. Abashed, he glanced away, focusing his gaze outside at the airport.

It was hard to think that not too long ago, the entire city had been overrun by aparoids. Everything about that day felt like a fever dream. He could still remember the sound of the medics pulling the general free from his flagship, the remnants of the aparoid infection still trying to fuse him to the cockpit. He could still remember the feeling of the wind through his fur as Wolf flew him over Corneria City. 

_ Wolf… I wonder if you’re really gone. Something tells me you aren’t. But maybe it’s just my brain trying to cope with everything._

“ARRIVED… DANIEL WHIPPET HANGAR. PILOTS PLEASE PRESENT LICENSE UPON TRAM DEPARTURE.”

He blinked, realizing that in his pondering, the tram had made the quick trip to their destination. Swiping his license by the scanner to depart, he trailed after Krystal—that heavy sensation of forlorn still resting on his heart. As he walked, he mused about the smaller details that had come to light—a tiny pain in his lower back when he stiffened his posture, the way his left ankle seemed to buckle if he stepped a certain way, the tightened feeling of his shoulders, as if they were permanently glued to his cheeks. He tried to release the tension in his body but it refused to leave. 

_I miss the days when I didn’t think about these things,_ realized Fox, who breathlessly watched the tram depart. 

Two guards stood on watch, positioned at either side of the hangar entrance. Krystal descended the steps from the tram platform with the grace of water flowing over river stones. Fox felt like a clunky moose in her wake. Both guards glanced only once at them, giving gruff nods before letting them pass. Krystal held the door for him as he wandered through, not sparing the guards even a glance.

The air in the hangar was stale, smelling of concrete, metal, and even a hint of dust. Daniel Whippet Hangar had been reserved for a few personal spacecraft but it was easy to see that the Cornerians had not been shy to cram a few of their fighters in as well. They were the newer marks, the type that had come out after the Lylat Wars. These were pristine in condition, likely unused in combat. Fox wondered how many of those there even were these days. 

Since the Aparoid Invasion had been thwarted, most of the fighters left behind in the city had been purged. Traces of the infestation had clung to them and out of fear, the government had ordered them destroyed with their remnants left under observation in case of a resurgence. If Beltino’s calculations had been correct, Fox doubted they would see so much as a speck of aparoid life amongst the rubble.

His Arwing sat with its counterparts as a somber guardian in the hangar. It felt like a year since he had last seen it. Paint still chipped from his scrap with the Aparoid Queen, it looked as dismal as it had before the Sauria Crisis. But its sleek frame called to him and, as if under a spell, the vulpine walked towards it. Fingers skimming over the team’s logo emblazed upon the side of its hull, he smiled. Nothing sounded better than a flight off-planet, getting lost in the stars. But that would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Fox’s emerald gaze wandered from it to the blue vixen, who could not contain a smirk. There was something mischievous about it that he did not like…

“We must’ve beat Peppy here,” Fox remarked with a casual glance about the hangar. “Heh, and here I thought we were gonna be late.”

Krystal’s smile fell.

“Oh. Well…” Krystal began.

_ There’s something she’s not telling me._

He turned to look at her. Realization growing… growing… He stifled a groan, burying his snout into the palm of his hand.

“Krystal…” Fox said in a low voice. “Peppy didn’t tell you meet us here, did he?”

“Fox, I…” the vixen began.

Two steps and he was in front of her, staring into her guilt-ridden eyes as she looked down and to the left. Her hands ran the length of her own forearms in a loose hug around her thin frame. It seemed like it took an eternity for her eyes to meet his.

“I’m sorry,” she confessed quietly.

“What are we doing here?” Fox asked her, straining to keep his voice from rising.

“I thought… maybe if you saw your Arwing, you’d…” Krystal began.

“I’d what? Want to jump ship and go flying?” Fox asked in exasperation. “That I’d just forget everything that’s going on here and go for a… a little _cruise_? What would the others say? What would Peppy say?”

“They all… wouldn’t blame you,” Krystal replied. Under the pressure of his words, her gaze had fallen back onto the concrete floor again, staring at nothing in particular. “I talked to them, Fox. They’re worried about you, too.”

The revelation humbled him for a moment before stoking his rage. 

“And what do they have to be worried about? We all went through this together. Losing the Great Fox. Nearly losing Pepper. Nearly losing Peppy. Nearly losing…” Fox began, feeling his emotions crack along with his voice. _ Everything. Nearly losing everything._ His anger manifested into a harsh exhale. “Look, I know you mean well, but we can’t just run off like this.”

“And why not?” Krystal demanded. “You saved everyone. What more could anyone demand of you?”

“It’s not like that,” Fox shot back. “It’s not that they’re demanding anything, it’s that…” _I am. I’m demanding it from myself. _ He shook his head. “Enough about that. I can’t believe you’d _lie_ to me like this.”

“I’m just asking for one afternoon, Fox. Just one,” Krystal pleaded. She took his hands into hers. He wanted to jerk away but he could not find it in himself to. “One where we’re not covered in ash and carrying out bodies and walking through half-crumbled buildings. One where we can rest from that. Where we can take the time we need for _ourselves_.”

“Krystal…” Fox shook his head. “It’s just not that simple.”

Her eyes pried deep into him. He felt her prodding at shadows in the corners of his mind. Fox recoiled, forcing her hands off of his. His boots felt heavy against the concrete, their tapping resounding loud in the emptiness of the hangar. Each step echoed. His back was to her but he could feel her stare nonetheless. It felt like shards of glass stabbing at him, pleading for him to turn around. Pleading for him not to go.

“If you really want me to drop this,” Krystal began. There was a small quiver in her voice, but it was outshone by her adamant resolve. “Then… beat me in a fight.”

“What!?” Fox spun around.

“Beat me in a fight,” Krystal repeated. “A dogfight. Over Corneria City.”

“Are you insane!?” Fox sputtered.

“Maybe,” the vixen admitted. “But not as insane as you if you really think you can keep this up.”

She walked forward. Hips gave a slight sway. Chin up. Eyes glancing downward at him. Even within mystic Cerinian powers, he could sense that she was forcing a semblance of authority on him. A challenge. Tipped ears back, he frowned at her. She had played him well, and he was just beginning to realize it. If there was anything Fox McCloud could not refuse, it was a challenge.

“Fine,” Fox replied with a hissing exhale. The tips of his fangs gleamed as he spoke. “If this is what it’s gonna take to appease you, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes lit up. Victory. She had won and he hated it.

“Great! I’ll get clearance for us to take off,” the vixen said with a smile.

Krystal strolled by him, emitting confidence that he knew had to have inwardly faltering. For all of her diligent training and quick reflexes, she did not have the years of experience in the Arwing like he did. Her cutting turquoise eyes might have exuded that sense of superiority but he knew she was fighting a losing battle. And most importantly, he knew that she knew. But that knowledge rested unspoken between them—unspoken as so many other things within their relationship. Fox watched her talk to the guard. He watched her white-tipped tail flick back and forth with anticipation. He watched her resolve line her muscle, steeling her expression with determination. It was not her skill he feared; it was her stubbornness.

_What have I gotten myself into this time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -stares off into the distance- You ever just mean... to write a fluffy fic... then it turns out longer/more complex than you ever intended...
> 
> Oh well, it's better than my first draft. I apologize to anyone who thought this was going to be just forehead kisses and hugs. If it helps, I kind of thought it was going that way too. But relationships can be convoluted things and sometimes characters just write themselves. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
